


romance your ego for a while

by Anecdoche (so_psychso)



Series: self indulgent mechs oneshots [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, just so fucking self indulgent this is appealing to a niche of like three people max, theyre all trans t4t4t rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_psychso/pseuds/Anecdoche
Summary: Mike has an interesting sense of self preservation. Hookups with the mechanisms were an inevitability, really.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Michael "Mike" Crew/Gunpowder Tim, Michael "Mike" Crew/Gunpowder Tim/Jonny d'Ville, Michael "Mike" Crew/Jonny d'Ville
Series: self indulgent mechs oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860787
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70





	romance your ego for a while

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/gifts).



> man idk, @seraf got brainworms and i am just a writing monkey

“He’s going to kill us,” Tim mutters, the warning muffled somewhere between the dip of Mike’s ribs and the tight plane of his stomach as Tim maps the length of his torso by lips alone.

They’re in Jonny’s room, where Mike dragged them both despite Tim’s myriad protests, and he doesn’t seem all that convinced, himself, what with how slowly he’s undoing Mike’s belt and zip, those lovely long fingers taking all the time in the world till Mike’s burning up at their mere suggestion.

To get across the point of his impatience, he takes another fistful of Tim’s hair and _yanks_.

“Don’t hear you complaining otherwise,” he admonishes.

“You’re not making it easy,” Tim groans, but the ruse crumbles neatly as Mike tugs again, curls caught between his fingers, and Tim’s eyes flutter closed, his mouth shining as he chews his lower lip and fails to stifle another moan.

About now is when Mike would tip the two of them back a frame or three through reality, send linearity dipping just left of gravity, and Tim does make the prettiest sounds when he’s choking on terminal velocity. Just as well, Mike wants that mouth occupied by other means, and they are pressing their luck doing this in Jonny’s room.

On Jonny’s bed.

Already a bit tangled up in the duvet and sheets, and certain to make even more of a mess.

So Mike leaves well enough alone—for now, anyway. The night’s yet young and there are so many ways to leave a man breathless.

So, “I’ll deal with Jonny,” because Tim genuinely sounded a bit worried. Their respective immortalities are nice and all, but a bullet still fucking hurts.

“Not you I’m worried about,” Tim gripes, but another tug by the roots of his hair shuts him up nicely, and he’s sighing his way back down to Mike’s naval, mouthing along the coarse trail of hair peeking over the band of his trousers.

Then his briefs, as Tim tugs the former to mid thigh. 

And he hums, an inquisitive sound as he ghosts his tongue over the front of Mike’s briefs, catching the jut of his cock, suffusing a heat through the fabric that mixes molten with the fizzling warmth in Mike’s belly.

Typically, an evening with Tim or Jonny requires at least a flimsy detailing of boundaries and expectations. But Tim’s been surprisingly amenable so far, obedient and ever so lovely, ceding to every one of Mike’s demands, verbal or otherwise. 

So, “Be a good boy and suck me off,” and the man answers with a stifled whine and the heavy press of his tongue. 

And that just won’t do.

“I _said,_ suck me off.”

Whether from words, the oddities of his mechanism, or an amalgam of both, Tim’s eyes blink utterly dark, glazed and adoring, and he nods, just once, then his fingers find purchase in the hem of Mike’s briefs, and they join the state of his trousers.

And Tim’s bowing forward as Mike props himself on his elbows to get a good look at the man between his thighs, bliss fanned across his face as he flattens his tongue against Mike’s cock, flicks up, closes his lips around the shaft, sucking sharply.

It’s never quite a shock of sensation those first few seconds of contact, instead the picturesque contentment on Tim’s face claims the forefront of Mike’s pleasure, himself falling over a different sort of ledge, just as exhilarating, just as keen to leave his stomach at his feet and his head full of white noise.

And then the sensation catches up, and his lungs punch clean of air, a long, arduous groan carving out of him.

And Tim has the fucking audacity to _smile._

Not that Mike sees it, his head thrown back and eyes unfocused on the ceiling, but he’d have to be bodily numb not to feel the way Tim’s lips curl, teeth nipping, a light graze, but enough to lash sparks to Mike’s toes

“F’kin’... sh- _shit_. Christ, _Tim_.”

And with each carefully applied lick and kiss, all his curated bravado eases into pure, selfish want, leaving Mike a trembling mess, one hand anchoring again in Tim’s hair, forcing his head in place, the other just barely keeping him upright. Vaguely, he knows if he were to fall back and let the easy give of the bed claim him, he’d surely drag them both into free fall, but he enjoys that less when in the midst of receiving all Tim’s gorgeous mouth has to offer, would rather reserve that for when he’s got Tim in his lap and writhing on his cock.

So for now, he luxuriates in the building glow of sweet, searing pleasure unfurling from the pit of his stomach and out through his limbs, the ambulatory tread of it up his spine where it rakes sticky sweet fingernails across the nape of his neck and spills up his throat in heady gasps and curses.

And all the while, Tim stays neatly put, obedient in his task, not once giving himself reprieve let alone time enough to pull a full breath, and each exhale against Mike brands him anew with a fresh wave of _so fucking good_.

This plateaus for some time, just the two of them panting together, Mike keeping Tim’s face pressed flush, and Tim greedily lavishing him, his tongue like silk leaving no inch of Mike untended. 

Lost to the bliss, Mike’s let his head fall back again, staring unfocused, lapsing in and out of coherent awareness, his senses singling down to where Tim’s head bobs rhythmically between his legs.

Save… something’s not quite right, a foreign, prickling sensation skittering over Mike’s nerves, not physical, and not borne of Tim’s ministrations, and he pulls together enough of himself to straighten up and look around for the source.

He need look about as far as right in front of him. To the door. Which he’s certain they’d pinged closed, but either that was overlooked, or he was so lost as to miss the sound of it opening again, and really that’s the least of his worries, the figure stood in the threshold and eyeing the both of them far more of an issue than how he got there in the first place.

It’s not that Mike’s _scared_ of Jonny per se, but he sure would have liked a little more warning of the mate playing cocksure voyeur to him and Tim. Which, really, is the best outcome he could ask for in this situation. And which does a little something _especially_ awful to his stomach as he realizes Jonny’s gaze is more appraising than it is outraged, the mate going so far as to flick a cigarette from nowhere and twirl it between his fingers while making no effort to enter the room or join the activities on his own damn bed.

And two can certainly go head to head with _that._

Just as well, Mike’s not one to relent so easily, regardless of whether he’s half naked with another man’s mouth on him. No, he rather thinks he can keep this in his favor, and, grasping a mean, tearing fistful of Tim’s hair, he grinds his hips against the man’s face, cutting him off just as he was taking a breath.

The moan Tim gives covers nicely the sound of Jonny’s lighter as he chews around the unlit end of his cigarette, and Mike smirks, inwardly commending his own composure as Tim redoubles his efforts, sucking at Mike like he might just die if he stops.

“Please,” he mutters.

“Please, what?” Mike asks, not for a second taking his eyes from Jonny’s, which have darkened considerably, pupils blown and hungry.

“W’nt to–wanna make you come.”

Mike still has that fistful of hair, and he forces Tim’s head back, effectively stymieing his task and leaving the man staring through tears, mouth lolled open and surely aching.

It’s a risk, but Mike thrives at the thrill’s edge of danger and gratification, and there’s nothing quite so intoxicating as disregarding Jonny’s predatory stare in favor of Tim’s doe-eyed pleading.

“You’ll need to ask nicely,” he says, the man before him so desperate as to be pitiful, and so, so pretty for it, too.

And he amends, “ _Please_ ,” nuzzling into the palm Mike curls around his cheek. “Can I make you come?”

“Mm, is that enough for you, though,” Mike puts on an air of genuine contemplation, and the thumb tracing Tim’s cheekbone moves down to tend his lips, stroking meticulous, spit-slick patterns around and around before slipping between Tim’s teeth and pinning his tongue.

“Such a waste not to use all of this, don’t you think?” And he slides in his thumb as far as the web of his fingers allows, just nearly hitting the back of Tim’s throat.

From the door, Mike can feel the air caught abruptly in Jonny’s throat, and he does his best to keep his smirk trained solely on Tim.

“Would you like me to fuck your throat, too?”

At least somewhat obstinate, Tim forgoes his usual reticence and nods, just once, but his eyes tell all, wholly black and heavily lidded, twin streams of tears spilling from the corners down his temples.

Christ, and Mike’s hardly even started on him.

“There’s a good boy,” he says, instead, employing just enough derision in his tone to leave Tim wanting.

Mostly wanting to prove himself, which Mike never has his doubts of, but it always does well to incentivise one’s best behavior.

And Tim spares no discomfort, diving back in the second Mike allows him, rekindling the heat gone ash-smolder between his legs. In these moments, Tim is wholly devoted to giving pleasure, so Mike settles in, moaning and sighing without reserve, petting at Tim’s hair, his brow, and all the while, he makes sure Jonny sees every second.

Every lick and suck and white-knuckled grip, the subtle bucking of hips.

Every way Mike uses Tim, keeps him bordering on breathless, keeps him begging to do well, to show just how good he can be.

And as climax takes over, a lazy, ambling thing of heavy, thick heat coaxed out of him wave by wave, he makes sure Jonny sees him relinquish nothing, holding the mate’s gaze through every crest, only breaking enough to let loose a throaty exhale as he hunches slightly over Tim, fists still vices in his scalp.

Perfect, lovely pet that he is, Tim pulls back the second discomfort threatens the ebb of Mike’s orgasm, and Mike lets him, watching him pull a deep inhale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Very good,” he commends, chucking Tim playfully under the chin.

Which serves a second purpose, securing Tim’s head in place to keep him from turning and spying Jonny. Who still hasn’t made a damn move.

That’s fine, more than that, in fact. Mike thinks he’s catching on to the ploy, and he’s always eager to have Tim enjoy himself under duress of two. 

“Think you can wait a moment?” He asks. 

“Can’t I–” Tim starts, and Mike jerks his chin roughly forward.

“ _Stay_ ,” an icy threat, like a hand on the small of one's back that could send you toppling in seconds.

Tim shivers, nods, and Mike allows him a reverent whine as he stands, amends his zip—he’s far too fond of the image of his belt undone to do anything there—and goes to retrieve the necessary items from Jonny’s personal stash. Bit spur of the moment, this, so he’s ill-equipped of his own favored toys, but Jonny has plenty enough to suffice, and fucking Tim with one of the mate’s cocks is something Mike simply cannot pass up.

As well, he ensures a route through the room that avoids Jonny completely, Mike trusting him to intervene when it best suits their enjoyment of Tim. That, and denying him any deference whatsoever is always delightful.

He takes his time getting ready, too, feeling all the while Jonny’s eyes on him as he pores over his favorite of the mate's dicks. Choosing the dark green and gold speckled number he personally adores for its thickness, Mike struts back to the bed, once more positioning himself in front of Tim, though he remains stood.

Through it all, Jonny’s gaze stings like frostbite.

Mike roundly ignores him.

“Be a love for me, won’t you?” He’s taken Tim’s face in one palm again, the other hand dangling the harness and dildo. 

Tim swallows, eyes glazed to fuck, and nods meekly. His hands remain steady, though, as he divests Mike of his trousers and briefs fully before guiding his feet through the harness. It takes a bit of maneuvering, really Mike should have done this himself, but Tim’s so carefully determined and terribly delectable when he gets in this particular head space, that Mike just leaves him to the task, murmuring bits of praise, scratching at his scalp, till the harness is in place, and Tim’s sighing forward, ghosting his lips over the head of Mike’s dick. 

“Keen are we?” This, Mike inquires as he once more endures the blow of Jonny’s ravenous stare.

He can’t imagine the hunger singing through the mate’s pulse right now, watching Mike fuck Tim with his own strap. It must be exquisite, and he’s eager to put on a show.

So he pries open Tim’s mouth, guiding him forward.

“That’s it,” he gives a careful thrust of his hips. “Nice and slow.”

Tim does as instructed, sheathing the length of Mike’s cock with his lips, his tongue, then, at last, the tight resistance of his throat. There’s a second of adjustment, Mike forgiving of his need to pull back a few inches, but then he’s surging forward, swallowing so his throat bobs furiously, and Mike’s core tenses with an agonizing jolt of pleasure.

And then that teetering sense of unease, because he’s taken his eyes off Jonny hasn’t he, and the mate’s taken full advantage of that, so when Mike tears himself from the obscene sight of Tim, he’s met with Jonny, smirking full on, stood just behind Tim and still with the cigarette between his lips.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” he purrs, and Tim startles, makes to pull off Mike’s dick, but Jonny’s fast, anchoring his hands at the back of Tim’s head and keeping him put where he is. 

The man gags, and if it isn’t just the most _beautiful_ , wrecked sound. 

“No no,” Jonny says, “please, continue. You’ve done such a good job already, Tim.”

“He has, hasn’t he,” Mike echoes coolly, gauging Jonny’s shtick.

Malice lurks in his smile, but then it always does, anyway.

“Wasn’t expecting this lovely reception,” Jonny continues, guiding Tim’s head back and forth. “Quite the treat.”

“He does deserve a reward,” Mike agrees, sneering as he catches onto Jonny’s angle.

“What do you think, hm?” He spares a glance down at Tim, fully gagged on his cock. “Would you like us both?”

At that moment, Jonny chooses to sink to his own knees, reach around, and roughly palm Tim through his trousers. He has the decency to let go Tim’s hair, so the man pulls off and _whines_ , head thrown back, throat bared, which Jonny takes immediate advantage of, carving an angry bruise just shy of his jugular. 

“Is that a yes?” Mike asks, straining to keep his breathing in check.

“ _God_ , yeah,” Tim exhales. “Yes, _mm_ , please.”

“Good choice,” Jonny growls into his collar.

He’s back on his feet in a blink, cigarette discarded, and crowding into Mike’s space, the bite of nicotine and tobacco stinging Mike’s nose.

He’s taller than Mike, not by much, but it gives him the advantage of tilting the man's chin up, their mouths nearly met.

“On your back, Crew.”

And, oh, that just won’t do.

And his smaller stature means Mike’s learned to be quick in many respects. Grabbing Jonny by the shoulders and toppling them both back onto the bed, well he’s had his fair share of practice with that, and though he’s tapping out of most better instincts, he has enough hindbrain to kick the force of their trajectory up a few dozen notches, leaving the half second it takes for them to actually hit the bed contorting into a solid minute of free fall.

Where their bodies touch screams like wind flaying skin clean from bone, where breath hitches between their teeth, a vacuum rushes to fill the space. Someone gasps, probably Tim, caught in the vertiginous crosshairs.

Then, sheets. And the solid weight of straddling legs across his stomach, not the intangible thrall of falling to asphyxiation.

Despite his efforts, it didn’t come up in Mike’s favor, and he finds his wrists pinned and his mouth full of Jonny’s prying tongue before he has the wherewithal to curse. Which is fine, though he’ll never admit it outright. Because Jonny kisses like an actual knife’s edge, not the lofty metaphor Mike likes to sigh down his own victim’s throats, and inevitably the sharp taste of copper joins the fray of their teeth and lips.

When Jonny pulls back, he’s stained at the canines in crimson.

“Hiya,” he says, smarmy as you please.

Mike is only marginally so, and he gives Jonny a shove. The mate goes over easily, dismounting Mike’s torso with a cocky salute.

“Prick,” Mike mutters, shifting up on his elbows and leaning against the pillows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jonny answers, his hand brushing over the front of his trousers.

Ah, was he packing the whole time, then? Had he a better grasp on, well, _anything_ , Mike would snark something about that. As it is, he’s just grateful it means less time prepping and more time spent on Tim.

Who’s still knelt at the foot of the bed, precious thing. 

Beckoning him, Mike throws Jonny a sneer as the man scrambles to comply, his trousers and pants gone in an instant. Any other time, Mike would admonish him doing so without permission, but he’s similarly eager, and _finally_ getting his hands on those skinny, trembling thighs more than makes up for any perceived sedition.

Just as well, Tim waits, hovering over Mike’s cock, clearly desperate to grind down, but he knows how to be good.

“Look at him,” Mike remarks, speaking to Jonny though not for a second turning away from Tim.

“Suppose you’d have liked my cock in your throat a bit longer,” he continues, dragging two fingers along Tim’s hipbone, teasing them around his dick.

“ _Nh_ , maybe,” Tim answers, a bit cheeky for Mike’s taste, but Jonny’s presence often brings out the worst.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” said awful presence offers, his sardonic tone dripping with insincerity. “Far be it from me to ruin your fucking in my goddamn room.”

Mike gives him a decidedly unimpressed frown, but it’s always bark sans bite in these situations, and Jonny settles the moment Mike raises a challenging brow.

“Would you like that?” He turns back to Tim, stroking up and down his legs, between them.

“Yes, but... “

Smiling serenely, Mike angles his palm against Tim’s cock and lets the man grind along it.

“There we are. Now, use your words.”

Closing his eyes, Tim keeps rolling his hips but manages to gasp out, “Want–want him to fuck me, w-while I suck you off.”

Beside the pair, Jonny hisses, sharp and razor keen.

“I think we can arrange that,” Mike replies, and lets Tim seek a few more seconds of friction before retracting his hand.

Like he’s thrown some secret signal, Jonny launches into action, and in less than a minute, they’ve got Tim situated between them, Mike securing him by his temples, and Jonny seizing him at his hips. 

“Christ, how long’ve you been teasing him?” Jonny asks. “He’s fuckin’ soaked.”

From his vantage point, Mike can’t make out whatever cock Jonny’s chosen for the evening, but that compares very little to the sight of him situated behind Tim, sleeves rolled to his elbows, belt and fly fanned open, his expression stone-set in concentration and dark, determined want. All the implication and none of the explicit, and the insinuation does more for Mike’s already writhing stomach than anything.

Until Tim seizes his gaze again, and his reddened lips kiss a tantalizing “o” to the underside of Mike’s dick, his tongue pressing flush and flanking the sides of his mouth visible around the toy.

“I see,” Mike smirks, petting through Tim’s tousled hair. “Go on, then. Let me hear you choke.”

With a heavy groan, Tim obeys, sinking down on Mike’s cock with an obscenely slick sound, equal parts gagging, equal parts moan.

Apparently inclined to a bit of decency, Jonny waits to fuck into Tim after he’s gotten had a moment to adjust to the mouthful. It’s not long, though, and Mike watches the mate’s face shit to a countenance of cruel lust, one hand anchored on Tim’s hip, the other guiding his cock into Tim. With that, he’s at least considerate, though the sounds Tim makes would have anyone unaccustomed to his limits concerned otherwise.

Which is to say, Mike is not, and as the second Jonny’s seated fully, Mike fucks those last few inches into Tim’s throat, filling him.

It all gets a bit hazy, then, luxurious waves of dizziness and ozone snaps of heat alternating and undulating through Mike’s pulse, his lungs, even the arches of his feet, till his body feels like one, collective spasm, and he can only lay there, guiding Tim’s head, watching him take what he and Jonny give.

It’s filthy, messy, beautiful, and _good_ , and Mike basks in the easy rhythm of it, Tim pitching forward with every one of Jonny’s mean, calculated thrusts. How many times he comes, Mike loses count, and each tip over the edge makes him that much keener to gag himself on Mike’s cock. 

Jonny relents after whatever age has passed, grunting and stilling inside Tim, and Mike watches him with eyes half lidded and his own lungs well occupied with a volley of moans. The end of his chosen dildo sits hard against his cock, and Tim’s been hitting an almost perfect angle this whole time. With the heady reverberations of Jonny’s pleasure, it’s enough to bring Mike to climax again, nothing so intense as before with Tim’s mouth on him, but still pretty fucking amazing, and he rides it right through to overstimulation, enjoying the sharpness of it where the rest of the evening’s been so cloyingly indulgent.

Tim seems to catch on, and pulls off Mike’s dick with a wet gasp and a cough, barely able to keep himself upright, and indeed his elbows give and he has to rest his cheek on Mike’s thigh, his arse still in the air, and Jonny apparently still inside him.

“Fuck,” Jonny says, when the room’s less full of three different sets of lungs trying to find enough oxygen.

“It certainly was,” Mike replies, grinning when Jonny flips him off.

“Last time I let you two do anything alone,” Jonny pulls out of Tim as he says this, earning a whine from the man.

“Poor thing,” Mike soothes, stroking Tim’s cheek, his swollen lips.

“My fucking arse,” Jonny mutters, but lacks any real vitriol in tone, so Mike lets him grumble and gripe as he fixes his trousers and pulls out another cigarette.

“When I come back,” he says, “I better not see any fucking cuddling, got it?”

Tim throws the finger over his shoulder, and Mike laughs.

“Pricks,” Jonny mutters, and then they’re alone, fucked out and well sated all things considered.

“Actually,” Tim offers, wincing through his words as he adjusts into a better lying position. “Next time, I’d like it if you sent him falling a few thousand feet, first.”

“Ah, bit sore, are we?”

“ _Just a fucking bit, Mike._ ”

Again, Mike has only an amused chuckle for that. Tim glowers.

“Fine, fine. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Had better.”

But not at present. For now, the inaudible hum of the void beyond the ship’s meager walls sings sweetly its impossibly empty melody, and Mike does so hate to overstay a welcome.

He can spare a minute, though, or several. After all, if his staying and tending to Tim will piss off Jonny further, he can’t say no to that.


End file.
